Felt
by Dirty Talkin' Edward contest
Summary: Former lovers lay it all out on the table. Taking shots never hurt this good. Entry for the Dirty Talkin' Edward Twific Contest


**Contest entry for the Dirty Talking Edward Contest**

**Title**: Felt

**Pairing**: Edward/Bella

**Rating**: M

**Summary**: Former lovers lay it all out on the table. Taking shots never hurt this good.

**Disclaimer:** The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"Sorry, we're closed," he shouts over his shoulder while wiping down the bar with his back to me.

"How about just one drink?" I ask with a pout. I see his shoulders tense slightly as he recognizes my voice. "You know, for old times' sake?"

He turns slowly and unleashes his signature smirk on me.

"Long time, no see, stranger," I say with a grin and a shrug as I sidle up to the bar. "Have time for a drink with an old friend?"

He nods and makes his way around the bar to pull me in for a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist, burrow my face in his chest and suddenly I'm eighteen years-old again. In an instant, all of the memories from our three summers together come flooding back to me. He squeezes me tight and places a soft kiss on top of my head before releasing me.

We smile and stare, regarding each other for a few moments. He looks the same, but older and maybe a bit taller and fuller throughout his body. He seems a little worn and tired, but God Bless America he is still devastatingly handsome. He chuckles and nervously runs a hand through his hair. I realize that I may or may not be leering, so I try to regroup.

"So how about that drink?" I ask playfully poking him in the rib.

He catches my hand and rubs his thumb over my palm. It's embarrassing that even the most subtle gesture from him can render me a smiling, tingling mess.

"You got it. Let me just lock up real quick."

His body brushes against mine as I go to take a seat at the bar. I hear the flick of the switches, the click of the lock and my heart starts beating a little faster. I don't look at him as he walks back around the bar. Instead I try to focus on the sights and sounds around me, like the twinkling Christmas lights above the bar, or the buzz of the neon lights in the windows. I'll do just about anything to distract myself from the nervousness and anticipation that has my entire body on edge.

"You still drink Boones Farm?" he jokes as he grabs a couple of glasses. "Or have you moved on to Mad Dog 20/20?"

I laugh and shake my head thinking about my younger self and how little it took to get a buzz.

"Let me make you something that I think you'll like."

I nod and watch as he moves around the bar to make my drink. He is totally in his element as every movement he makes is confident, sure and slightly cocky. We start playing catch-up as he tells me about how he's been running the bar since Carlisle's heart attack last year. Edward's in the process of putting together the financing to buy him out. I don't miss when he looks up slightly to gauge my reaction. I guess this is Edward's way of letting me know he's putting down roots here in Forks. I smile brightly and tell him that I'm happy for him. This must please him, because I see him smirk as he drains the drink into a glass and tops it off with soda water.

"Here, try this," he says, handing me the cocktail.

I take a sip and the moment the cotton candy vodka touches my tongue, I know exactly why he chose this drink. I swallow it down and lick my lips as he looks on.

"It's delicious. What is it?"

"It's a Cotton Candy Collins," he says as he grabs a glass and a bottle of Johnny Walker and makes his way back around the bar to sit with me. "Do you like it?"

Cotton candy will forever remind me of the Clallam County Fair. I remember dreading the arrival of the fair every summer, because it signaled the end of our time together. He watches intently as I drink, and I wonder if he knows that I've made the connection.

The second our eyes meet, I know we're both thinking of the very last fair we spent together. The memories flash through my mind, and once again I am twenty years-old and looking over the brightly lit fairgrounds from the top of the double Ferris wheel. I remember climbing higher and higher into the starry night and opening my thighs for him. I can still taste the cotton candy on his lips and see the look on his face as his hand disappears beneath my skirt. I swear I'm still able to feel his fingers as they slip into my panties to tease my clit. My skin tingles at the memory of his breath against my ear and the gravelly timbre of his voice as he whispers filthy things that to this day make my nipples harden and my thighs clench.

"_Spread those legs just a little bit further, baby._

_I need to make sure that you're nice and ready for me._

_I can't wait to get you alone tonight. I'm gonna work that pussy over._

_You gonna let me, Bella? Huh?_

_You gonna let me make you feel good?"_

"Of course I like it," I smile and take another sip. "Cotton candy reminds me of the fair." Images of foggy windows, sweaty limbs, and joined hands from later on that evening in the fairground parking lot invade my mind. "Been to the fair lately, Edward?"

He lets out a small laugh, shakes his head and pours his scotch. "So, how have you been?"

I give him an abridged version of the past five years of my life. I cover the basics like college and grad school. I skim over inconsequential things like my summers spent in Arizona and Jacksonville and hope he doesn't ask why I haven't come back to Forks until now. I regale him with tales of my mother and her much younger husband. He still gets a kick out of my Renee stories. God bless my mother, but she is a round-trip ride on the hot mess express.

Edward makes me another drink as we move on to discuss Charlie and his recent marriage to Sue Clearwater. He tells me that he doesn't see them much since Charlie retired. I have a pretty good buzz going so I don't want to ruin it by telling him about overhearing my father and stepmother belly-slapping this morning. I shudder as I remember hearing my father's gruff voice shouting out, "_Yeah girl". _I try to drown the memory by guzzling my drink like a lush. This causes Edward's eyes to widen slightly as he prepares drink number three for me.

"Your turn," I tell him as he pours two more fingers into his glass.

He gives me an equally condensed version of his past five years. He notes the important stuff like graduating from college, his two year stint in New York and a nice overview of what his day-to-day life is like now that he's running the bar. He tells me that he bought the old Mallory place a few blocks over and that he's in the process of remodeling. My mind immediately wanders to how he'd look wearing a tool-belt over low slung jeans, wielding a power tool. I slip further down the rabbit hole when I start to recall all the fun I had with the power tool in his pants. I feel my eyes drop to his crotch and wonder if his dick is a little fuller and standing a bit taller these days as well.

"Bella?" He sounds concerned as he waves his hand in my face. "Are you still with me?"

"What? Yeah. Um," I stammer like a jackass. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I asked how long you are in town for."

"I'm not really sure," I pause awkwardly and measure the next words out of my mouth very carefully. "I'm just trying to figure things out."

"Figure things out?" he asks as he leans in and raises an eyebrow at me.

I nod hoping that he won't ask me to elaborate because I don't have an answer for him. In an ill-advised preemptive strike, I take a long unladylike swig from my drink, causing it to dribble down my chin.

"Shit!"

I spit, trying to catch it when I suddenly feel his thumb glide over my chin and brush across my lip softly, wiping the liquor up as it goes. His eyes are on my parted lips as his hand lingers on my cheek for a few moments. When he pulls back, I admit I'm disappointed. That is, until he slips his thumb into his mouth and sucks off the excess.

I watch as he takes a long pull from his drink and slumps back into his chair, no doubt pleased with the effect he has on me. He moves his leg to prop his foot on the bottom of my barstool. Although our legs are barely touching, it somehow feels intimate with his knee comfortably resting between mine. That's how every touch feels when I am with Edward.

"Got anyone special waiting for you back home?" he questions while picking at the label of the scotch bottle, purposely not meeting my eyes for the first time this evening.

"No," I reply quietly. I brace myself for impact when I get the courage to ask the same question. "You?"

I see the corner of his mouth turn up as he shakes his head slowly in the negative.

"Have there been others?" I blurt, but it comes out sounding like an accusation. I inwardly cringe because I sound utterly certifiable. "I mean, like, anyone serious?" I amend quickly.  
"As in marriage potential?"

He brings the bottle to his lips and shakes his head again. He gulps down the liquor and clarifies. "No one special."

_What in the ever-loving fuck does that mean? _

"How about you?" He tilts his head and gestures towards me with the bottle. "Have there been others?"

I notice he doesn't add the marriage piece to the question. I hate that I can't tell him that there have not been others over the years, so I tell him the same truth he told me. "No one special."

He rubs his hands over his jaw as he considers this for a moment. He grins knowingly as he raises his glass for a toast. "To no one special."

One toast turns to two, then three and four as we continue our drunken trip down memory lane. All of our stories seem to start with '_remember when'_ and '_whatever happened to'_ and become more elaborate and animated as we go. We laugh and laugh and inch closer to each other with every memory we revisit. His knee is now locked firmly between my legs and he's holding my thigh to balance himself as he leans in.

"Do you ever …" he stops abruptly and shifts back in his seat. "Never mind."

"What?" I say as I playfully slap the top of his leg and shamelessly slide my hand up. "Do I ever what?"

"Do you ever think about us?" He questions quietly, catching my hand and bringing it to rest against his chest.

_All the time. _I shrug indifferently and keep my eyes focused on our hands.

"Answer the question."

I quirk a brow at him, letting him know that I don't particularly care for the tone of his voice. His jaw is set and I know he has no intention of softening his previous command.

"What about us?" I reply coolly, not entirely sure I like the direction the conversation is heading.

He scowls, clearly not satisfied with my response and waits. I roll my eyes and pull my hand from his grasp to cross it over my chest.

"Yes. I think about us. Happy?" His expression stays too neutral for my liking and I can't stand the awkward silence that follows. "What about you? Do you think about us?"

He sits, unmoving for a long while before slowly nodding his head.

"I do. More often than I'd like to admit," he takes a quick pull from the bottle before continuing his thought. "Like… what happened? Why did you just up and stop talking to me the week after you went home?"

I stare at him in disbelief. I can't be sure if it's the liquor or five years worth of pent up anger that causes my temper to flare, but the words feel justified as I spit them out harshly.

"I don't know, Edward. Perhaps it's because we were young and dumb. Or maybe because I was gone for a millisecond before you moved on to the next willing pretty, young thang." I narrow my eyes and go in for the kill. "Or should I say 'thangs'? How many girls went on that joyride with you, Edward? Hmm? I was always so curious for the details. You know how Jessica Stanley likes to give you just enough so you cry yourself to sleep at night."

"Joyride?" He questions looking genuinely puzzled.

"Yeah, joyride. Let' see if I can remember the particulars. You, Bree, Mike, Jane and Jessica. A bottle of Peach Schnapps and the Port Angeles police," I lean forward and sneer. "Ring any bells?"

"I remember it. I'm not sure why you'd stop talking to me over it," he shrugs indifferently and adds. "I don't understand. Why was it such a big deal?"

I slap my hand on the bar causing the bottles to rattle.

"Are you for fucking real? If you'd have heard about me riding around town with a gaggle of guys, you would have driven down to Tempe and motherfucked me in person."

He scoffs at my statement, but he doesn't deny that if the shoe was on the other foot that he would've lost his shit. I am feeling as loose as a goose, so I let the shit fly.

"Now correct me if I am wrong, but joyriding for us meant driving fast down the one-oh-one with your cock in my mouth. See what I'm getting at now?"

I sit back in my chair looking and feeling appropriately smug while crossing my arms over my chest. His face goes from zero to furious in an instant. There are two things that Edward Cullen and I do better together than anyone else, that's fucking and fighting. And right now, judging by the look in his eyes, I'd say he wants to do a little of both.

"_I'd_ never do that to you. Although, I noticed it didn't take you too long to get together with the tool with the blonde ponytail and the puka shell necklace, now did it?" He finishes with a self-satisfied nod and raises the bottle in mock tribute.

I roll my eyes at the thought of my time with James. I'm certain it's the only time in my life that I truly lost my mind. For me, James embodies the perfect storm of what happens when a sad, depressed girl goes to Starbucks and any dude plays any song by John Mayer. I'm not proud of it.

"I didn't date him for months after we stopped talking," I defend before angrily draining the last of my drink.

"Uh yeah, I know. But there I was pining away and trying to figure out why you wouldn't take my calls or answer my emails. So imagine my surprise when I sneak onto Emmett's MySpace page like a fucking sexual predator and see pictures of you with dreadlocks and a hemp necklace clinging to that stroke."

I start laughing mid-drink and the cotton candy scented liquor burns as it comes out of my nose. I know the exact picture he is talking about. It is from when James took me to a Phish concert during my granola phase. He laughs too and hands me a napkin. The tension is alleviated somewhat as we both sit back and study each other.

"Did you ever look me up? Or try to find me?" he asks reaching for my hand again. I shake my head _no_ and look from our hands to his eyes.

"Why not?" he whispers.

"I don't know," I lie, "I guess I didn't want to see." I try again, though my words are only somewhat untruthful this time. "I just, don't know if I could handle hearing or seeing you….happy."

I hate how it sounds, but it's the God's honest truth. The only thing I could say to make the statement more true is if I add '_with someone other than me_'.

His brow furrows a bit as he processes my words. "You don't want to see me happy?"

I shake my head furiously. "No, I don't mean it like that. Like, obviously I want you to be happy. But to see you, married or involved with someone else, it would…" I pause trying to come up with the perfect word. _Gut me? Destroy me? Devastate me beyond belief?_ "Well, I think it would… _irk_ me, you know?"

He stares dumbly. "It would _irk_ you?"

"You know what I mean." I feign annoyance and slap my hand against his chest.

"I do," he replies as he grabs my hand again and gives me his easy smile. "It would probably _irk_ me, too."

He moves our hands over his heart, pulling me closer to him in the process. Too close. It's like the air around us is crackling with lust and anticipation.

"So. We agree then?" he asks, looking at me earnestly as he entwines our fingers.

I shoot him a confused look because I have no idea what we need to agree on. He throws his head back as he laughs at my baffled expression, before spelling it out for me.

"We were young and dumb and didn't know any better."

"Definitely," I answer softly.

It's probably true anyway. We'll never know if a long-distance relationship would have been the end of us or not. It's possible that we were only meant to be summer lovers…then. He releases my hand and pours us a couple of shots before proposing another toast.

"To being young and dumb."

"To being young and dumb," I reply as we clink our glasses and shoot the liquor.

He slams the shot glass on the bar and abruptly stands.

"Be right back," he tells me, planting a kiss on my temple as he walks away.

I watch as he heads to the back of the bar and disappears. I take the opportunity to get up and check out the old place. I can't remember the last time I was here, it's been ages. This is where I got my first job waiting tables and also where I met Edward. I grab the bottle of Cotton Candy flavored vodka, because I don't have to be lady-like any longer and make my way around the bar. Everything appears to be the same. All the same signs, pictures, and Forks High School sports uniforms still line the walls. The only thing new I notice is the addition of a pool table. I run my fingers along the felt as I walk by.

"Never knew you were a pool player," he says as he sneaks up behind me and rests his chin on top of my head.

I nearly jump out of my skin. I swear my heart stops and it's not only because he scared the shit out of me. It has more to do with the fact that his chest is pressed tightly against my back and his hands are on my sides tracing small circles over my hip bones.

"I've never played," I reply, leaning back against his chest. I close my eyes and focus on how good his fingers feel on me. "Do you want to teach me?" I suggest- albeit a bit suggestively.

He softly trails his hands up my arms to my shoulders before stepping around me. Towering over me he tilts my chin up and quirks the corner of his mouth to give me a panty-ruining grin.

"I'd love another first with you."

He walks backwards and watches as I process his words. He knows damn well that he had almost all of my firsts, well, the important ones at least. Images of him hovering over and inside of me on a beach at Lake Crescent hit me full force. To this day, I don't recall the details of the act itself, like the pain or how long it lasted. I just remember how he looked at me when he pushed inside and how we both trembled at the closeness.

I want that. I _need_ that feeling again.

"Go grab a cue," he jerks his chin towards the rack of sticks, startling me from my memories. I watch as he arranges the balls and places them on the marker, before moving around the table.

"Come here," he waves me over.

I approach slowly, placing the vodka bottle on the edge of the table. His hands find their way to my hips again, shifting me so I'm in front of him.

"First thing I need to teach you is how to break."

"Okay," I quietly comply as he takes my hand and places it on the cue, bending me forward across the table. My back is once again flush against his chest as he directs my movements.

"You need to get a good grip on the stick," he instructs, wrapping his hand around mine to make sure that I'm grasping it firmly. "There you go, just like that."

He positions my other hand in a fist in front of me, sliding the cue between my knuckles,

"Run it back and forth just like that," he whispers low against the shell of my ear. "Smooth and steady strokes." I feel my face flush and my skin prickles with excitement at his nearness. "Let it glide over your fingers."

I try my hardest to focus on the ball as he continues coaching me, but all I can think of from this position is him sliding into me. Rearing the cue back, I feel his lower half shift against me causing my skirt to creep up, and a desperate moan to escape my lips. We miss the ball completely as the cue drops to the felt.

"Jesus, Bella," he rasps against my hair as he lifts off of me to help me right myself on the edge of the table.

His hands seize my face and his lips barely brush mine as he starts speaking slowly against them.

"Five years is an awful long time, isn't it Bella?" I nod and press my forehead to his, desperate to get closer as he begins trailing his finger over my jaw line. "I used to know your body like the back of my hand. All the little things that got you hot and turned you on." His mouth moves against my cheek. "I knew the ways to touch you and the words to say to get that pussy all worked up for me."

I moan loudly and clutch the bottom of his shirt, pulling his lower half to where I want him most.

"You remember that, Bella? Remember how fucking good we were together?"

"God, yes!" I pant, "So good."

"So fucking good," he murmurs against my ear, "You want me, Bella?"

"Yes," I hiss as his fingers trail down my chest to pluck my nipple. My hand slips from the hem of his shirt to cover his hardening cock. "Anything you want. Whatever you need."

"Anything I want, huh?" I swear I hear the smile in his voice. "What if I want you to be my dirty girl, Bella?" he asks as he slides his tongue down my jaw and across my bottom lip. "Hmm? Are you gonna let me do all the nasty things I want to do to you?"

"_Anything_," I repeat, a little more desperately this time.

His hands find their way to my hair as his mouth covers mine in a hard, passionate kiss. We pour everything we've felt over the past five years into the kiss. Love, lust, anger, bliss, urgency – it's all there in every twist and turn of the tongue.

"Fuck!" he grunts pulling away breathless. "You know what I want, Bella?" he asks grabbing the bottle of vodka. "A little taste."

He pours the liquor over the front of my shirt, saturating the thin material and exposing the pink flesh of my stiffening peaks. I gasp at first from the unexpected chill, then from the heat of his mouth as he roughly sucks the booze and my nipple through the fabric.

"Delicious," he teases as he repeats the action on the other side.

It's all too much for me to handle. I'm quickly losing control, completely lost in his scent, the memories, and the feel of him taking me this way. I fist my hand in his hair pressing his face further into my chest.

"Fucking missed these tits," he mutters rubbing his five o'clock shadow against them. "You used to love to let me get at them." His eyes meet mine as he flattens his tongue and runs it all over my entire breast. "You still do, don't you?" He pulls both of my nipples, stretching them and rolling them gently between his thumb and forefinger. "Let's see if I can get them nice and hard." He captures my nipple again, drinking up more of the vodka, grazing and tugging it with his teeth. "Almost there." He tells me as he drags the strap of my tank lower, uncovering my breast. I fully expect him to begin lapping at them again, but instead he blows on the already chilled flesh.

I whimper pitifully and wrap my legs around his waist, desperate for friction.

"Not yet, baby," he coos in my ear. "I need to get reacquainted with that pretty little pussy of yours. Give her a little kiss 'hello'." His voice lowers. "I'll bet its better than I remember, too."

My lips find his again and this kiss is different than the first. Long, loud and deep. It's like we're consuming each other. Rediscovering what was lost and relishing being found. He pulls away abruptly and walks to a nearby table. I run my finger over my now swollen lips and irritated chin and watch as he pulls a chair over to sit in front of me. He says nothing as he undresses my lower half slowly, taking his time dragging my skirt down my legs.

I close my eyes, feeling his mouth hover over my panties before placing a small, sweet kiss against my clit. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as his fingers begin to lower my panties, making me shiver all over. I think I hear him mutter a quiet _fuck_ as he positions my legs on his shoulders, no doubt seeing my pussy completely bare for the very first time.

"God damn this is a pretty pussy," he muses as he spreads my lips wide, causing my clit to stiffen in anticipation. "Do you want me to please this pussy, Bella?"

I swallow and nod, not bothering to open my eyes. Well, that is until he taps my clit with two fingers.

"Answer me!"

"Yes," I all but beg.

"How? How do you want me to do it?"

I open and close my mouth, finding myself unable to articulate all the ways I want him to _please_ me.

"Are you being shy now?" He pauses slightly and lowers his mouth so it lingers just above my clit. "I thought you were going to be my dirty girl." I nod furiously because I want to be his dirty girl more than anything. "A dirty girl would tell me if she wants to get fucked with my fingers or my tongue. So which is it?"

I try to lift my hips in offering, but he pins me down, needing to hear me say the words.

"You want me to eat that pussy until you scream, Bella?" he groans against my inner thigh. "Or do you want…"

"Both! Christ, use both!" I demand, reaching down to grab his hair again.

Using only the tip of his tongue, he teasingly slides it up and down my clit over and over again before dipping and plunging it inside of me. He starts slowly increasing the pace of the circuit until he's lapping and sucking me into a full-on frenzy.

I tighten my hold on his hair and frantically try to push his face further against me. His hands grab a hold of mine and push them until they're against my stomach. He laces his fingers in mine and I notice he is looking up at me from below. Somehow the gesture becomes far more intimate than we initially intended it to be. The tender moment ends when Edward rubs his stubbly chin from side-to-side over my clit. I begin to tremble at the feel of the rough friction against my sensitive, slick flesh.

"You love that don't you? You love it when I play with that clit," his smile is appropriately cocky, because he's right, I do love it. I'm almost positive that the feeling of the scratchy, coarse hair on his face, coupled with the angle of his chin brings the most pleasurable sensation to my pussy. That is, until he bites down on my sensitive bundle of nerves and spanks me hard.

My entire body tenses and I tighten my grip on our entwined fingers. I swear it takes everything in me not to crush his head to my crotch and ride his face like a second place derby jockey in a photo finish. He has me close. So very, very close. I can feel my legs shaking and my toes curling. I'm almost there when again he stops suddenly.

"Not yet," he says as he kisses his way back up my stomach, circling my belly button with his tongue and tracing his fingers up my ribs as he goes.

"I want you to cum around my fingers," he mumbles against my shoulder and slips two long fingers deep inside of me. I mewl as I grind against the heel of his hand. I slide my hands up and begin slowly kneading and tugging on my nipples. "That's it baby. Tweak those titties for me."

His name falls softly from my lips. I throw my head back, getting lost in the pleasure of his crude words and teasing touches. His fingers continue pumping steadily inside of me, pressing and circling as they go. I quietly whimper when he cups my ass roughly.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself, Bella?"

I bob my head slowly and bite down on my lip.

"What do you think of? Hmm? Do you think about all the ways you let me have you?"

He pauses for effect and pushes his fingers a little deeper.

"You remember all those times you rode my cock? How you'd always start grinding slowly, squeezing my dick tight as you went? Is that what you think of?"

I gasp as he presses up roughly inside of me and starts spreading his fingers within.

"Or do you think about how I used to bend you over, Bella? Grabbing those hips and pulling that hair just how you liked it."

"Oh, God." I moan desperately.

"That really got you going, didn't it baby?" he says against the corner of my mouth.

"Mm hmm." I mutter incoherently.

He pulls me in for another heated kiss. This one is possessive and rough, causing me to moan loudly when he sucks my lip into his mouth. My hand roams over his chest, skimming lower and lower, until I reach his belt buckle.

"I want you," I say simply, hoping that he'll hear the urgency in my voice.

His eyes are on mine, staring intensely. I see him lick his lips and nod woodenly as he begins to loosen his belt buckle. Impatient, I start grabbing his shirt and try to pull it over his head. Within seconds he's naked in front of me, hard and ready.

"Lay back, baby," he says, fisting his cock and running it over my slit.

I lean back on my elbows because I don't want to miss any of this. His jaw tightens and I start inwardly giggling with glee. When it comes to fucking, Edward has two speeds – pure passion and fucking madman. God forgive me, I hope I get the latter.

"Pill?" He grits out from clenched teeth.

"Yes, just…please."

"Please what, Bella?" he asks gripping my thigh tightly. He's waiting for me to garner the courage to say the words he wants to hear.

"Fuck me," I beg quietly, closing my eyes at the feel of him sliding his cock over my slit.

His lips curl into a smile against the base of my throat before chuckling darkly.

"I'm not going to _fuck_ you, Bella," he tells me slowly as he skims his nose up and down my neck.

His hand softly ghosts its way from my thigh to my jaw before gripping my chin roughly. My eyes fly open and meet his. He looks like a man possessed as he presses his forehead against mine and clenches his jaw tightly. Every nerve ending in my body is standing on end when he speaks his next words to me.

"I am going to tear that pussy up."

I scream his name as he drives his cock deep inside of me. There is no teasing. No shallow dips or slow stretches. No easing it in tenderly to savor the splendor of being reunited. There's none of that because this isn't about that. This is about pleasing and punishing. Acknowledging and apologizing to one another for words left unsaid. This is not about reuniting. It's about reclaiming.

Forceful and frantic, he pounds into me causing me to wince and whimper with each stroke.

"So much better than I remember, baby," he grunts before running his tongue across my collarbone. "Tell me you love it, Bella," he demands before latching onto my nipple again. "Tell me you missed taking my cock!"

I pant and nod incoherently as he rocks into my body harder.

"I can't hear you, Bella," he bites the tender flesh of my neck and soothes it with his tongue. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you. You were begging for it," he breathes roughly against my cheek and grinds his pubic bone into my clit. He drops his voice low and brings it to my ear. "I thought you were going to be my dirty girl."

The plea gets caught in my throat as he starts fucking me mercilessly. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts and claw at his shoulder blades.

"That's it, baby," he rasps, nipping and biting his way down my jaw to speak against my lips. "There's my dirty girl."

I close my eyes as he continues to slam into me. His breathing is ragged, though I can barely hear it over the sounds of the shifting pool table and the clanking cue balls. He must realize I am close because his thrusts become erratic and choppy as my muscles start to tighten around him.

"You ready to cum, baby?" he asks, bringing two fingers down to slide against and circle my clit.

I throw my head back as he continues furiously rubbing against me. He repositions my leg to rest on top of his shoulder, increasing his pace with each and every thrust. I desperately cling to him as the pressure builds, digging my fingernails into his flesh. His expression is intense and determined as his eyes meet mine. With one last powerful stroke, he stiffens and I feel him pulsing as he empties inside of me. He collapses on top of me grunting against the side of my face and grabbing a fist full of my hair. The small tug and his final rough thrust are enough to send me over the edge. I squeeze my eyes shut and release a silent scream as every muscle in my body spasms and clenches violently.

We come down from our high quietly clinging to each other. Tender touches replace the raw need as he gently skims his fingers over my face. The throbbing ache is subsided for the moment.

"That was..." I can tell he is searching for the right words. "Fuck. So much better than I remember."

"The best," I say breathlessly.

I keep my eyes closed, enjoying how he softly entwines our fingers. I don't want this feeling to end.

"Bella?" He murmurs as he props himself on his elbow, peppering soft pecks on the sensitive skin of my shoulder.

"Hmm?" I reply absently, far too distracted to form a more coherent sentence.

When he doesn't answer right way, I turn to meet his gaze. He nervously flicks his tongue over his top lip and scratches the scruff on his jaw.

"So where does this leave us?"

* * *

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**Public voting: August 13 2013 to 27 August 2013.**


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